A Crack Fic Full of Veela and Smacked Bums Mostly Smacked Bums
by I'maMePanda
Summary: It's been just over a year since the war and Draco is convinced the whole world has gone mad. This may or may not be his fault. It's bad enough that Potter has been doing unspeakable things in his parent's bedroom-and since when is his Father part veela anyway?-but now they want him to act like Potter-who is younger than him-is his parent? Draco thinks he may be in hell. Spanking


Utterly kinky spanking smut, just an excuse to smack Draco's backside really. Written in slight response to a wonderful bad fic that I will not name, as well as just a generally good natured poking fun at all "Malfoy's are Veela just because they are pale-and also Veela have life mates they'll die without even though it says nothing like that in the books just 'cause I think it's cool" fics. Also known as shameless self-indulgence. If you don't like it don't read! I am well aware the characters would not have acted like this in canon. I am sensitive and flames make me cry. Please don't be a dick.

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"What?" Draco gaped at his father in astonishment, too surprised to be angry. Had he woken up in an alternative universe? Was his father mad?

How often had he thought that in the last few weeks?

"You want me to let Potter _smack _me? Like a child? I'm older than he is! Have you gone bloody completely and utterly mad? That is complete fucking bollocks!" Ah, there the anger had caught up now.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, I _will not _have my son speaking like a uncouth common wizard." His mother, sitting on the other side of his father from Potter-slightly higher up on the raised platform as befit her status as first spouse-was as cool as ever when reprimanding him, but Draco could only turn disbelieving eyes on her. Would she really allow this? Narcissa looked down her regal nose at her son, and a bit of softness entered her gaze as she saw how wild his eyes looked-he was almost in a panic. "Now Draco, my love, I know you are still adjusting to all the changes these last few weeks, and that is has been difficult for you. It has not been easy on any of us. No one expected your father's Veela side to find a mate so late in life, and we certainly didn't expect who it was. But all that is expected of you is to follow the same customs you have always done. You know very well how tradition demands you to treat a step parent, and as Harry is your father's Veela mate he is considered much more than that."

Draco will swear until the day he dies that he had never been told of his Veela heritage until _after _his father and Potter had been yelling at each other in the middle of the ruins of Hogwarts and suddenly gone from yelling to snogging, in a sweaty, desperate pile in the middle of the ground.

Lucius interjected here, "You are right that Harry is younger than you, and as a young man close to your age I expect that he might sometimes find himself requiring punishment, certain of it, actually-if so your mother and I will handle it." Harry spluttered, and Lucius shushed him absently, "As my veela mate, Harry-which you are to call him, not Potter-is automatically considered my spouse, if junior to your mother." Lucius ran one hand over his cane head, and the other up rather too high on Narcissa's thigh. She purred. Draco gaped in horror. He'd heard the noses from his parents room and realized that their new, ehm, addition had uh, spiced up their love life so to speak but that didn't mean he wanted to _see _it. Then his father switched hands and ran his hand up Potter's leg, who blushed like, well, a schoolboy, which, Draco shuddered, he had been not long ago. He was so going to be scarred for life. "As my spouse, he is considered your parent and you will treat him with the same respect and obedience you treat your mother and I with. Well you do not have as much Veela blood as I, you have some, and in time, due to the bond between Harry and I, you will develop a familial bond to him, and this will seem more natural. And yes, he will be smacking you, if you require a smacking and we are not around, or if you disobey or disrespect him. I expect you to accept punishment if he tells you you have earned it."

"But you and Mother haven't smacked me since I was a child! Ages ago!" Draco was desperate now, not understanding how this was happening. How it could be real. And yet with every second he was realizing how serious they were. He glanced at Potter who looked a strange mixture of horrified and the cat who got the canary. Well, Draco supposed getting the chance to smack one of your enemies whenever you bloody wanted would do that...he should have gone to France for the summer when he had the chance. Pansy's family had offered to take him, in light of as Pansy put it, "The horror that has descended on your home."

Pansy, he thought with a sinking feeling, would find this hysterical. Oh, she'd be horrified if it actually happened, but the conversation itself would delight her in that special, "Oh my god, are you _serious." _type of way that was her specialty.

She could never find out about this-oh, she wouldn't tell anyone else, but she'd never stop tormenting _him._

"Three years is hardly such a long time. We had thought you had grown out of such punishments, but your recent behavior has caused us to rethink this. Combine that with some rather unbecoming surliness and attitude you have been displaying, and we have decided a return to old fashioned methods might benefit you immensely."

"What you and Blaise got up to in London," Narcissa murmured disapprovingly, "Those poor dwarves." Draco blushed, looking away. _How were they supposed to know the cow would react like that? _It had been an accident. And decidedly not Draco's fault. The dwarves had just been collateral damage, they hadn't even known they were there!

Draco caught Potter's eye by accident, and Potter, wide eyed innocent that he had been until he moved into _Draco's Bloody Manor _and started _fucking Draco's parents_, looked vaguely admiring. He had gotten up to all sorts of life saving heroics, but Draco supposed there had never been much time for crazy adolescent shenanigans. The truth was, Draco hadn't had much time for them either, at least not ones that didn't involve revenge, or murder plots, or death eaters. Which really, didn't properly qualify as "shenanigans" at all. They'd been making up for lost time.

Also, Draco's home life had been very traumatic lately. He was acting out. Granger, who was for some reason unknown to him, now allowed in his home simply because she was friends with Potter, as though the blood status lessons Draco had had pounded into his head almost daily didn't matter at all anymore, had informed him of this rather candidly, and in great volume, when she'd caught him in the hallway on a visit last week.

The aurors hadn't cared much for either excuse, and well he hadn't realized it at the time, apparently neither did Draco's parents.

"Yes, well, the less said about that the better," Lucius winced at the memory, what he'd had to pay both the aurors, dwarves and the Daily Prophet reporter, who had of course been following the two liquored up young purebloods around the alley, to shush the incident up was painful even by his standards. "You will be on a tight leash, for at least the next few months. Frankly, you should be on your best behavior or expect a smacking. I have not cared for your attitude lately, and have no problem correcting it. Do you understand?" He looked down at his son sternly, as though everything he had said was perfectly normal and ordinary, and he simply couldn't understand why his stubborn child would not obey.

Draco tried to take a deep breath. If he just agreed he would be able to leave the room, and then he could escape to Blaise's house, or catch up to Pansy in Paris, get out of here before anyone decided to carry through with this madness. His father, voice dripping with impatience, spoke up again, "Draco, I asked you a question and expect an answer." Draco took another deep breath, tried to tell his parents what they wanted to hear-but it was no good. He snapped.

"No! I do not fucking understand you loony bastard! No one understands! You're all utterly fucking insane, nutters, and everyone else on the whole bloody bollocking planet knows it!" He picked up a lamp off the table next to him, an antique from the fifteenth century, and threw it as hard as he could at the wall to his left, "That bloody rag of cousin Loony's ran a story on how dysfunctional and unconventional our family has become!" The lamp crashed against the wall in an explosion of ceramic, and as Draco glared at his father, panting, Harry spoke up for the first time, voice quiet, but firm.

"The Quibbler is _not _a rag, and her name is Luna. You will _not_ call her that again." Then he seemed to realize what he had done, and blushing, mumbled, "Um, I'll talk to her about that article..." and sat back in his chair, seeming to try and disappear into it.

There was a moment of silence, and then Narcissa spoke up, voice low and soft and silky, and very, very dangerous, "I have already told you that I will not tolerate you talking like some common lout. It is clear that we have been far too lax. You have more than earned your first smacking, and I think to send the message home Harry will be the one to give it to you." Draco knew what that look on his mother's face meant. It meant that if he argued things would soon be much, much worse.

He wasn't entirely sure how they could be worse, but he'd thought that before and learned just how...creative she could be. But still...he couldn't just give in...he cleared his throat, and looked beseechingly at his mother, "I apologize for my outburst, but couldn't father or you-"

"If you argue with your mother one more time, not only will I cane you, but you will receive bedtime smackings from the house elves for a week." Draco gaped at his father, then shut his mouth quickly. He'd been on the end of quite a few house-elf given bedtime smackings in his day, but never a week of them, and he did NOT want to experience that. House elves were-thorough.

There was a reason he'd hated Dobby. Little bastard had been good at his job.

Harry, red as a beet, shook his head and tried to decline, but Narcissa cut him off, "Nonsense. As a spouse to the head of a veela household, you are one of Draco's parents, and have every right to discipline him. More than that you have a duty to make sure any children of this home are raised properly. As first spouse I am assigning you this task, and you will complete it. And, can you really say he doesn't deserve it for that temper fit?" Harry couldn't, even as he tried to protest that it _really _wasn't his place. Draco who had been hoping he would outright refuse, glared. Narcissa waved her wand and a couch on the other side of the room flew over to land to the right of Draco with a thump. He gulped. This was really happening. He was, at eighteen and a half years old about to have a smacking in the middle of the parlor. And Harry Potter was going to be the one smacking him.

He vaguely wondered, for just a moment, if he had died in the war after all, and this was hell.

Harry, with the sort of resolve face that everyone who went to Hogwarts with him knew as his "I'm going to do something I don't want to do, and maybe shouldn't do, but for some reason it is completely necessary, so don't try and stop me face", stood up and walked over to the sofa, sitting smack in the middle of it and patted his leg, saying, "Well, might as well get this over with."

Draco hated Potter, and he hated his stupid face more. Nevertheless, the words "House-elf bedtime smackings" rang in his ears and he forced himself to inch his way over to Potter until he was standing next to his thigh. He wasn't sure he could make himself bend over, and Potter, seeming to realize this, reached up and grabbed his arm, pulling him down over his lap. Draco shifted, cursing Potter for being bony. He felt Potter raise his arm to start, but then his father stopped him, "Wait-" for a wild moment Draco got his hopes up that he was putting a stop to this madness, only for his heart to sink when he continued, "He won't feel it through those heavy robes. You need to raise them, and pull down his under things as well. You should smack from the upper middle of his bottom to the top of his thighs, and when you stop his skin should be red, and he should be crying hard." Draco blushed, mortified and disappointed-he'd never had a smacking that wasn't on the bare, but he had been hoping...and hearing it laid out like that, not to stop until he was crying hard...

Potter hesitated, then reached down and grabbed the hem of Draco's casual robe pulling it up and over onto his back, then hesitated again, before quickly pulling Draco's old fashioned underwear, the only thing he wore underneath, down to his knees. Then, apparently deciding that if he was going to do the job, he was going to do it right, Potter snapped his hand down right in the center of Draco's ass making him arch his back and bite back a howl, and leaving behind a vivid hand print. There was another hesitation, and then a quiet "Sorry", and well the next swat more than hurt it didn't feel quite so much like he had been scalded.

Harry sat to his work properly, smacking all over Draco's bottom, some high, some low, sometimes smacking several times in the same spot, sometimes working his way way up or down one cheek or another, sometimes peppering them around randomly so Draco could never tell for sure where the next one would land. He hissed and shifted on Potter's lap, his Malfoy pride forcing him to hold back his exclamations and will away the tears that wanted to form in his eyes. Lucius and Narcissa watched from above almost dotingly, murmuring approvingly to each other as their son's bottom grew redder and redder.

Draco was now actively squirming, trying not to kick or reach back, that having always earned extra smacks when he was younger, and clenching his lips and teeth to keep from shouting, or worse begging. He was a Malfoy, and he did _not _bed-even if that last series of swats to his sit-spot had felt like fire. He certainly wasn't going to beg _Potter_ for anything.

But it just wasn't stopping-he knew he wasn't a child anymore but his smackings had _never _lasted this long that he could remember. It had been going on for what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to five minutes, and it just _wasn't stopping. _Finally, Draco was unable to keep his lips pressed closed and small, almost inaudible, sobs began to escape him. Harry stopped immediately, sagging back into the sofa, and just as both young men thought they could relax, Narcissa shook her head, tutting to herself.

"You're not done dear-sniffling and crying hard are two different things, and you've completely forgotten his thighs. Remembering you've been smacked every time you sit down is an important part of the punishment, and his thighs need to be as red as his bum." Draco trembled where he lay, and to his surprise he felt Potter's hand not as a smack, but as a solid presence rubbing at the small of his back.

"No. He's been punished enough. He deserved what he's got, for that wobbly, but no more." Draco didn't have to see it to picture the glare Potter was directing at his mother, it had been directed at him often enough at Hogwarts, but he was having trouble processing the fact that Har-Potter was sticking up for him. It was a shame he wasn't going to win. No one, not even Father, could change his Mother's mind when she decided it.

"I would hate to have to discipline you so soon in our relationships start, particularly for something as severe as not completing parental duties, but I will certainly do so." Her voice was silky soft, and full of challenge. Draco felt a distinct need to get out of the war zone he was suddenly in, the tension between Mother and Potter so thick you could cut it with a knife; but dangling as he was over Potter's lap, he was rather stuck.

"You said I'm one of his parents now-" Dammit, the last thing Draco needed was Potter _accepting _that title. The war had driven everyone insane. That's all there was to it. "And I think he's been punished enough."

And he thought with a sinking feeling, that if the war had driven everyone insane, that perhaps he deserved this humiliating punishment. If he hadn't fixed that bloody cabinet things never would have happened the way they did...

"Darling, Harry is rather new to this, if he really feels unable to complete the punishment I see no reason I-"

Harry, pissed now, and never having known when to keep his mouth shut, shouted, "Dammit Lucius, I said he's been punished enough!" Lucius stiffened, and slowly, ever so slowly, turned his head from where he'd been looking at Narcissa to pin Harry with his glare. Harry glared back, never having been intimidated by Lucius when he only knew him as Malfoy's death eater father, and certainly not about to be intimidated when he knew him as his husband and mate. Draco cringed and waited for the bloodshed to start.

"You will not speak to me like that. I am the head of the Malfoy family, and _no one _speaks to me like that. Not even my spouse." The words were slow and clear, each syllable pronounced, and Draco, sneaking a glance at his father, saw how controlled his face was, and how tight his grip was on the head of his cane, felt a moment of distinct empathy for Potter. "I think, perhaps, that Narcissa is right. If you do not want to do as you are told, a demonstration of a thorough smacking, and all the good it can do a stubborn young man, is required. We can always have Rinty assist Draco to his bedchamber."

Rinty had large hands for a house elf, calloused and scarred from chopping wood, burned from tending many fires, and Draco who was sure that part of his "assistance" would involve said hands connecting with his posterior, shook his head frantically, and hissed up at Potter, "For the love of God, and the sake of both our arses, just do it! Smack my thighs!"

"What?" Potter hissed down, incredulous. Lucius, not happy at not being answered, snapped his fingers and a large house elf appeared and Draco shuddered.

"The house elf will be way worse, trust me!"

"But-"

"Are you deaf? Smack my thighs you utter berk!" Harry glared, and decided maybe Draco could use another few swats. A few dozen, maybe. He raised his hand and brought it down swiftly, snapping his wrist right before he connected with Draco's left thigh and eliciting a howl from the older boy, and a grim smile from Harry. The more it hurt, the sooner Draco would cry "properly", and they could be done with this.

_***smack!***_

_***smack!***_

_***smack!***_

He went on like this, hard, deliberate swats, alternating thighs, shifting his swing up and down, or left to right by a small amount, making sure to cover a good area, and occasionally hitting that tender spot in-between bottom and thigh. Draco howled, and mewed and did his level best to levitate himself off Harry's lap without the use of magic. Finally, when his thighs were even redder than his bottom he collapsed sobbing across Harry's lap, and Harry, not sure what to do, patted hesitantly at his back. He couldn't just _not_ comfort Mal-Draco, it was Draco-but he wasn't sure he would have wanted to be comforted by Draco if their positions were reversed.

Narcissa, all disapproval of both of them now melted away, all forgiven, half floated over to the sofa, to pet Draco's hair and coo over him. She even took the time to squeeze Harry's shoulder, and ghost a kiss over his forehead after she righted Draco's clothes. Harry, who had in addition to the very confusing and overwhelming marriage bond that was forming between him and his spouses, developed quite a crush on the Lady Malfoy, blushed quite spectacularly. "I will take Draco to his chambers and settle him for the night, before I join you again my loves." Then with the help of the house elf (who Draco cringed away from) she swept out of the room, leaving Harry alone with Lucius.

Who, Harry was suddenly aware of he had yelled at, and not really resolved things with. He smiled hesitantly at the man, who looking as though he were suppressing amusement (whether he was amused at Harry, or amused about what he was going to _do _to Harry was hard to tell), not sure what to do next. Lucius gestured for him to come to him, and Harry hesitantly stood...

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You get to decide what happens next for now! How does Lucius deal with Harry's defiance, or almost defiance, anyway? Is a warm botty in his future? After all Harry might not be very submissive, but as in all good Veela fics, someone has to be dominant...

I have some more ideas for this-(and would like more! I would love to see any suggestions!)

Draco getting a "Warning Smacking" in the middle of Diagon Alley for disobeying/disappearing on Harry-about ten swats on the seat of his pants, in front of _absolutely everybody._ Someone takes a picture. Maybe it winds up in the Daily Prophet.

Draco getting smacked, pants down, by Harry in front of the other members of the golden trio for insulting them/using the "M" Word.

Harry managing to get the Malfoy's to accept the Weasleys as their in-laws (Molly and Arthur are pretty much the closest things he has to parents), grudgingly of course, and then him getting into a fight with one of them, complaining about it to Lucius/Narcissa, and having them not only take the Weasley's side but punishing him for it.

Harry getting up to old heroics again, in a decidedly dangerous and rather unnecessary manner, and Lucius taking issue with HIS MATE being so foolish.

Narcissa realizing just how little training Harry has in etiquette (maybe after he embarrasses her at a party/gathering) and takes it upon herself to train him up. Strictly.

Lucius putting his foot down about Draco calling Harry "Potter" (and possibly vice-versa) and declaring that he gets a hard swat every time he does so. Draco just keeps forgetting...

Harry and Draco becoming friends or at least frienemies, and getting into trouble together, earning smackings from various people. And since Harry is nominally in charge of Draco, Draco could also earn the occasional swat/smacking from Harry on their adventures.

House elf spankings. Enough said.

And of course potentially, this trend could spread, with others decided the young adult members of their families could use this approach...Neville would be fun to spank, but it might be hard post Deadly Hallows.

If you want to play in my sandbox, just let me know. These ideas aren't really up for adoption but I don't know when or in what order I will use them, and someone elses take on it would be fun to read.

Anyway let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas you'd like to see let me know in a review. I can't promise anything, but the more inspiration the more likely I am to write.

Also, in case you couldn't tell, I have a bit of a kink when it comes to the idea of house elves spanking people. And I haven't had much luck finding anything like this, so if anyone has any good suggestions I would be estatic.


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